All the travelogues, all the travel programming on TV, and all the photos on image sharing platforms- I’ve read them all as messages, but never picked up the bags and set about travelling regularly. Now, i can give operational excuses, but i also know that those are not the real ones. For quite sometime now, I’ve had a block in my head, but could never decipher it myself. And the worst part is that it wasnt always like this. While i’ve never been a travel freak, i’ve never shied away from it either.
It took Nude Ellie to give me an insight into this bug. The first and easiest insight is that i am incredibly lazy. Even that trip might not have happened if it werent official :). And it is perhaps only fitting that it was an office space that gave me a thought.
I’ve realised that travel necessarily means meeting new people. And not just meet, but also see large amounts of humanity that i may not meet, but faces that i know exist. In this case, floors and floors of cubicle farms.
Now this might sound weird to many, but that to me, is a bit like those starlit nights. And while i love staring up at the sky, I’ve slowly built up a revulsion to the other thing that evokes in me a feeling of insignificance, a feeling that i haven’t done anything to be truly special.Ego/ Frustration? Or plain old existential angst?
until next time, wanderbust?
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